Air had bled from my lungs all night. The pizza tasted like the box it came in—cardboard and nerves. Every bite turned to sand in my mouth.
How the hell did I end up here?
I’d hurt her—badly—and the memory still carved through me. Her tears from that night replayed like a film I couldn’t stop watching, the look on her face when I broke something fragile. And now I was sitting on her couch while she showered, the sound of water carrying through the walls like a reminder I didn’t deserve.
Then I remembered the mugger. That motherfucker who’d scared her so badly she’d texted me—for help. Me, of all people.
I dragged my hands down my face, trying to claw the anger down. It didn’t move.
He’d pulled a gun on them.
She’d looked so small when I pulled up—shaking, pale, eyes wide with shock. Candace, too. Both still vibrating with leftover terror.
I could’ve lost her today.
The thought landed sharp and deep, a blade sinking to bone.
Ripped from my life by some piece of shit in an alley.
Her scent hit me next, the vanilla and coconut bath products drifted through the air. I drew it in like I could pull her into my lungs and keep her there, somewhere safe.
A stray thought slid in before I could stop it: I should find her some of that. Stock it at my place. Something that smelled like her.
The thought lingered, absurd and tender, so I let it drift upward—like a prayer tossed to the universe.
Give me the chance to see her there. To know she feels safe enough to stay.
I didn’t know who I was praying to. I just knew I meant it.
Then the water stopped. Silence followed, thick and expectant.
It was 8:37 p.m. Normally by now we’d be halfway through our third show—home renovation marathons, the same ones my mother watched. Emma’s dry commentary about sidewalks and backyards flickered through my mind, uninvited and impossible to ignore.
Footsteps sounded down the hall.
When I looked up, everything stopped.
She stepped into view, skin flushed from the shower, a silky tank and shorts skimming against her full curves, a towel twisted around her hair.
My pulse kicked back to life in a frantic rhythm.
She was exquisite.
Voluptuous enough to make my knees forget their purpose.
Get it together, Holt.
I shut my jaw before it dropped. Pressed my palms into my thighs like I could pin my sanity back into place.
Too late.
She’d seen the look on my face.
Whatever she read in it made her fold inward, arms wrapping around her stomach like she could hide from me.
My chest cracked cleanly down the center.
Then she winced.
